Wait
by livingonakiwi
Summary: One shot: Brendan/Ste: Brendan and Ste at the airport waiting for a delayed flight. 'He thought about the fair Dublin city, he thought about his sons, he thought about Steven sleeping softly beside him, and he knew that everything would be just fine. He just had to wait.' T for language.


Waiting

One shot. Brendan and Ste waiting at the airport for a delayed flight. Enjoy.

* * *

"For fuck sake," Brendan seethed through clenched teeth. Ste glanced sideways at his angry lover and frowned. _I know exactly how you feel_, he thought. He reached over and draped his free hand over Brendan's knee but he didn't look in Steven's direction, he didn't even flinch, so Ste removed his hand and flicked to the next page in his magazine.

The book on Brendan's lap had been thrown down in anger and exhaustion. "It's two in the feckin' mornin'," he groaned, leaning forward and cradling his head in his hands. Ste nodded to himself and, after finishing the paragraph of the article on one of the Kardashian sisters, he glanced back over.

Ste sighed, eventually closing the magazine and throwing it back on the pile on the small table beside his seat. "I'll go check the board."

"No point," Brendan retorted, his words muffled by the palms of his hands. "They haven't made an announcement over the speakers."

_Well I'm not sitting here with your grumpy arse in the meantime,_ Ste thought to himself. "I'll check anyway, need stretch my legs." Brendan barely grunted in response. Ste rolled his eyes as he walked away.

It's not like the day had been at all bad. In fact, it had been strangely peaceful, which should have been some indication that something bad was lurking on the horizon. Ste walked past the aisles of people: some families waiting for the next flight out to the Costa Del Sol, but who were forced to wear parkas over their holiday gear because apparently, at two in the morning, the airport didn't offer central heating to their customers; some couples waiting for their flight out to Paris for the weekend, sitting cosied up on benches, eyes closed, dreaming about the Eiffel Tower; etcetera, etcetera.

He stopped below the first digital screen he could find.

**DUBLIN: DELAY: 8 HOURS**

_It said four hours three bloody hours ago_, Ste thought angrily to himself. Ste hoped that this eight hour delay would take into account the three hours they had already spent waiting. If they had to wait another eight hours Brendan might actually kill one of the workers, like he had almost done when they were first informed of the delay and Brendan had tried to swap their tickets for another flight, which the worker had dutifully informed him was impossible.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Sir. No one is flying out, no one is flying in. It's impossible," the administrator behind the desk repeated for the tenth time. Brendan placed his palms flat on the table top and Ste could see the poor lad slink back into his seat fearfully. Ste practically had to drag Brendan away from the administration desk before any blood was spilled.

Apparently there was a storm that prevented even the thirty minute flights from making their way over seas.

"It better be one hell of a feckin' storm," Brendan had remarked when Ste suggested that they pass the time in WHSmith. Brendan had stood next to him sulking for ten minutes before Steven scalded him.

"Piss off if you're gonna be in a mood," He'd told him. Brendan glared at Steven without blinking for nearly a minute and then turned his back to him and walked away. Steven soon regretted it because, after wasting forty minutes scouring the book aisle for something that Ste thought might have vaguely interested Brendan, he hadn't previously realised that Brendan was the only one with his wallet on him.

After twenty minutes of wandering the departure grounds, Ste found Brendan slumped in a chair overlooking the landing site. He had a face like thunder, so Steven thought it be best if he just asked him for his card and not say anything else. Brendan didn't respond the first time, so Ste asked again louder and angrier, and the parents of a family a few rows away looked over. Ste stared at them until they looked away sheepishly. Brendan pointed to his carry on and Ste audibly groaned as he bent down to search through.

He settled on some book with blood stains on the cover. _Fitting,_ he thought, for Brendan. Ste also noted to himself that if Brendan didn't cheer the fuck up over the next six hours then the airport might end up a murder scene, and the blood stains on the book would be real on a case of Ste bashing Brendan over the head with it. Ste brought himself a drink and although he had looked at the magazines, he had spotted some on a table near where Brendan was sitting, so he didn't buy any. He didn't buy Brendan a drink because he didn't deserve one, _not that he'd notice anyway,_ Ste thought.

Ste made his way back slowly. The thought did arise to him that Brendan might of switched places, an unnecessary by-product of his unpredictable nature, so he took the long way around, and briefly scanned the crowds. He thought he spotted Brendan once, saw a tousle of dark brown hair, but when he saw the man smiling he knew he was mistaken.

Surprisingly, Brendan was exactly where Ste had left him earlier. He had his eyes closed and his head was resting on the back of the seat. He was reclined almost entirely and at an unnatural and what looked like an excruciating angle. He wasn't asleep. As Steven neared, Brendan opened one of his eyes and watched as he made his way towards him.

"Careful you don't do your back in," Steven joked, an attempt to lighten Brendan's mood. It didn't work.

"My back's fine. I'm ain't a feckin' pensioner, ye' know."

"Alright," Ste raised his hands in mock surrender. "'Ere y'are." Ste slung the book at Brendan, it landed in his lap but Brendan didn't look down. Brendan opened his mouth to speak but Ste interrupted.

"If you're not in the mood for reading, then don't read it. It's the thought that counts, in't it?" Brendan opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Steven with hooded eyes. "You could at least say 'thank you' anyway, you know. Be grateful for my very presence at least." There was a pause between them for a few moments before Brendan cocked an eyebrow and grunted. He picked up the book from his lap and scanned the front and back cover.

"Fitting," he muttered under his breath. Ste very nearly smiled.

* * *

"Anythin'?" Brendan enquired half-heartedly when Ste returned.

Ste shook his head and Brendan breathed a half-sigh, half-moan, his head still in his hands.

Ste slumped down into his seat. Brendan watched him from the corner of his eye as he lifted his head from his hands. Brendan hesitated when attempting to rest his hand on Steven's knee. Whilst he looked as though he needed comforting, he also looked on edge, an emotional attribute Brendan knew he had influenced.

"Sorry," he whispered. Ste looked over at him in mock surprise.

"Fuck me, have you finally come to'ya senses?"

Brendan's lip lifted at the corner. "It would seem so," he appeased.

Ste sat up in his seat and shifted himself closer to Brendan, until the arm rest between them threatened to become an extra rib bone. Brendan watched Steven for a while, examining his facial features: he had that pout forming on his lips, equal parts playfully angry and angrily upset; one of his knees was pointed towards Brendan, the other in the opposite direction, with the empty 'V' forming in-between, that Brendan gazed at for a longer period of time. He shifted his leg so it rested against Steven's and Steven smiled lazily in response. They both hadn't slept in twenty-four hours, they were both excruciatingly tired, bored and, at this point, aroused.

"Come on," Brendan stood up, grabbing his carry on and slinging it over his shoulder. Ste looked up at him incredulously.

"What're you doin'?" he asked.

"If I have to sit here for another minute, either you're goin' to kill me, or I'm going to kill _myself_," Brendan admitted. Ste emitted a small, weary laugh.

"Whar'about your kids?" Ste looked guilty up at Brendan.

Brendan extended his arm towards Steven, offering his hand to help him up. "I'll let'em know." Brendan sighed dejectedly. "At least I'm not lettin'em down on purpose this time," he smiled half-heartedly.

"I'm sure they'll understand," Ste consoled.

Brendan grunted. "Sure."

Ste held Brendan's hand in his own for a while longer, lacing their fingers together. Brendan's smile flourished into a sight a little more sincere, and Ste moved closer to him until the scent of Brendan's worn out aftershave drifted around him. "Looks like we haven't got any other option. We'll just have to stay for two weeks next time to make up for it." Brendan traced down Steven's obliques thoughtfully and nodded in agreement. "I know you were lookin' forward to it, I bet they were too, but it's not your fault."

"I know," Brendan admitted after a minute of thoughtful silence.

"So, come on then grumpy," Ste lightly prodded Brendan in the ribs, "Let's go 'ome."

* * *

"Listen, I'm really sorry... I know, I know, there was nothing I could do... Yeh, sure, of course, definitely... well, we're gonna stay for a while longer next time... I don't know when, soon... I promise, yeh... Again, sorry..." Brendan took the glass of water from Steven's hands and rested it on his lap. He felt its cold radiate through the thick duvet draped over his legs. He smiled at Steven and then turned back to his conversation on the phone. "I know, I'll see you soon. Okay, bye son."

"Dec alright?"

"Ay, disappointed but I don't expect much else." Brendan sipped at his water.

Ste untied the belt from the house robe and shrugged out of it, draping over the end of the bed.

"I can see why they wouldn't let anything fly out," he muttered, shivering.

"You still cold?" Ste hummed in confirmation.

"Bloody freezin' out there. Surprised we got 'ome at all." He pulled on his tracksuit bottoms with his back to Brendan.

Brendan's eyes trailed over his lean form and he smiled to himself. He pulled the covers back for Steven on his side of the bed. "Your hair's still wet," he noted.

"I know, I tried to towel dry it but I couldn't really be arsed," he laughed lightly. Ste slipped into bed beside Brendan and stretched out across the entire length, groaning as he did so.

"Come on," Brendan urged, holding his arm out. He put his glass of water on the bed side cabinet and settled down into the bed, resting his head on the mound of pillows while Steven buried his face in his neck.

"You need to shower," he whispered lazily. Brendan laughed wearily.

"Think we had enough of the shower just walking from the car to the front door," he smiled.

Steven hummed against the skin of his neck, opened his mouth to sigh heavily in content, and kissed above Brendan's pulse. Brendan raked his fingers through Steven's hair, wet but somehow still soft. He kissed his forehead and turned to switch of the table lamp beside him. "Night," he whispered into the silence, but Steven was already asleep. Brendan laughed under his breath to himself as he pulled the covers higher over their tangled bodies and closed his eyes.

He thought about the fair Dublin city, he thought about his sons, he thought about Steven sleeping softly beside him, and he knew that everything would be just fine. He just had to wait.

* * *

Thank you for reading


End file.
